


Lips As Red As Mistletoe

by runawaymind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaymind/pseuds/runawaymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's near Christmas time at Hogwarts and these damn magical mistletoes seem to chase Harry wherever he goes, and it's a riddle of its own as to why Niall is close by every time one of those stupid plants seem to bloom out of nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lips As Red As Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [postmoderne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmoderne/gifts).



> For postmoderne, of course based off her marvelous Harry Potter prompt.
> 
> Love, love, loved writing this prompt and I've been dying to write a Hogwarts AU, so this prompt was my amazing incentive to do so. 
> 
> Also, a thanks to my lovely beta Victoria and also Maya, who happens to the organizer of this fic exchange, for helping out!
> 
> Harry Potter movie/book references are constantly found left and right, please blame the Order of the Phoenix soundtrack that was listened to while writing most of this.
> 
> (I actually 100% suggest listening to that score while reading as it adds to the whole Hogwarts feel that much more!!)

  The first time it happens, Harry is running late to class— although quite literally. He wasn’t usually like this: his hair a disheveled, knottier mess than usual; a quill fastened between his teeth; a thick textbook trapped beneath his armpit; and scrolls beginning to crumple in hand. Zayn had failed to wake him up for a reason he’s not quite sure of, but is prepared to interrogate on at a later date, a few useful spells already coming to mind.

  He curses the seemingly never-ending halls, he decides he will never get used to this damn castle. (On second thought, they really could be endless, it _was_ a school of magic. He makes a mental note to search through his _Hogwarts: A History_.) His shoes are sliding against the stone floor every time he races past a turn. He thinks he’s almost to the classroom— dodging around another bend— when he immediately smacks into something, or rather someone, he later finds out, a groan mixing in with his own.

  Already falling back with the force of the boy running into him, his limbs become tangled in his own uniform. Harry feels the other one's hands reach out for his robes, fail to do so, and slap onto the ground just before the rest of him does.

   " _Agchh_."

  Harry lands directly on his bum, a pang vibrating through his tailbone and upward, causing his teeth to chatter. He quickly raises a hand to his forehead, already feeling the soreness of a bump arising. The loud hollow thump from their two heads clamming together is still ringing in his head, threatening to burst his eardrums. He looks up to see the other boy lying on his stomach and he watches a pale hand run through his blond hair.

  “Uhh,” Niall groans out. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, finally looking up and recognizing the boy lying in front of him. “Hey, Harry," he gives a lopsided smile for not even half a second before he's reaching a hand toward his face in pain. "Oh god, jus' great. I’m so sorry, was just trying to get to class ‘n I didn’t look at all and— _oww_.” He rubs at his nose, fingers pinched on both sides. His half-lidded eyes go cross trying to glance at the bridge on his face. He's embedded in a pile of cloth, their robes mixing together in a small sea of black with their school materials scattered around both of them.

  Harry tries to suppress a laugh at the entire idiotic situation, heaving chest feeling too sore to complete the action. Breathing out through clamped teeth, he infers the look on his face contains all sorts of creases as he scrunches it up. Harry realizes Niall interprets the expression as agony when blue eyes widen and fill with concern. (And, yes, most of his body feels in pain while his face displays it well, but he refuses to let Niall fret over the matter.) "No, no, it's my fault. Really it's fine it's just— I'm good, Niall. Really." He holds out a thumbs up and gives a bright smile as Niall fixes himself into a properly seated position.

  Niall has always been caring like that. The Hufflepuff within him always shone through in moments like these, immediately worrying more about the other person's state of being before he could ever take a glance at himself. Harry thinks he continues to be a little bit of Gryffindor as well; Niall _had_ been a 'chair weight': a student-made term naming those who the sorting hat took more than fifteen seconds to decide on. He remembers the scene during their first day at the school: Niall had squirmed around on the stool that stood about the same height he was. The small boy had his hands clamped on opposite sides of the stool whilst in front of the entire student body. The Sorting Hat had slid down to almost cover Niall’s bright eyes as it thought out loud. Harry recalls it about to shout Gryffindor when Niall had interrupted and suggested another house instead: Hufflepuff.

  Harry shifts his attention to picking up his supplies, hands reaching for his Muggle Studies textbook. Niall helps as well, coiling scrolls back together. He taps them on his thigh and then hands them to Harry before they both stand up. Niall’s adjusting his robes, pulling on the long ebony sleeves, when Harry notices his wide eyes fixating on a point above the curly one’s hair.

  Harry tilts his head back, eyes turning to where the other boy is directed. There’s a plant growing from nowhere above them, slowing inching its way down, small crinkling noises and soft bell rings being emitted. The branches are long, jagged, and thin, small dark green leaves sprouting out in different directions. Harry watches as small crimson spheres grow around the base of each branch. He holds his breath, eyes unmoving.

  “Mistletoe,” Niall whispers, voice barely audible. Both their eyes flicker down from the growth and onto the other’s face. Harry watches Niall’s cheeks quickly blush, a full fledged one, too, his nose and the tips of his ears airbrushed a flushed pink. Harry can feel himself doing the same, face becoming heated, and he brings a hand to his neck to adjust the Ravenclaw tie that’s begun to feel too tight. They stay like that for a while, eyes glued on each other, just as if they were petrified.

  Harry’s beginning to think it’s gone on for too long— the silent stare— but then, just like that, they simultaneously erupt into laughter. Harry’s eyes squint closed, his mouth opening and the sound of their laughter moving through the musty air.

   The two have been friends for years, definitely past acquaintances, but not quite best friends, and absolutely no where near lovers. The thought of them actually _kissing_? As if.

  Harry then realizes he's said the last part out loud. He thinks it shouldn’t matter, but Niall’s laughter quickly dies down, and Harry’s naturally follows. He opens his eyes only to see a small tilted smile left on Niall’s face. Harry notices that his eyes don’t seem to match, as if they’re somewhere else.

  Niall opens his mouth and looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “I, or, we, should probably get ta class,” he says, accent breaking through as he waves his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook in the air as confirmation, that smile and pair of eyes still plastered there.

  “Of course,” Harry says, neither of them directly looking at each other, and when he finally gets the courage to do so, Niall’s already begun to walk away in the opposite direction.

  Niall hesitantly turns around halfway, stumbling just the slightest. Harry hears him call out, “Your tie’s crooked, by t' way” when Niall motions to his own Hufflepuff tie, mimicking the act of straightening it on himself. He faces away again and disappears past a row of gargoyle statues, then behind another dark corner.

  Harry’s left alone, the only sound coming from dull thumps of the moving staircases somewhere around the castle. He remembers, and fixes his bronze and blue striped tie. He glances back up at the spot above his head, but all that’s left is the decaying plant, curling back into itself and turning into dust.

*

 “The other day mistletoe appeared above my head,” Harry says.

  Zayn and he are seated in the Ravenclaw common room; it’s mostly empty despite a fourth year in the corner reading a book. Zayn is laying on the couch, head slopped against the armrest and Harry sitting in front of the fireplace, a mug of hot chocolate poking his side as the two are enveloped in their work.

 “Hmm?” Zayn hums, noting he didn’t pay attention to a word Harry said. He has a textbook suspended directly above his head and a quill and parchment floating to his side hastily scribbling notes, all without Zayn lifting a finger.

  “The other day, when I was late to class—wait, _you_ caused that,” Harry puts down his quill and sets it into the half full bottle of ink. He knits his eyebrows together, narrowing his eyes in the process, directing the gaze towards Zayn.

  Zayn’s quill stops scribing, and Zayn sits up, the book above his face flying higher to make leeway for him. “Ha, sorry ‘bout that,” he flashes a smile in an act of condolence, or at least that’s what Harry hopes it is. “I’d gone to the library early to finish my charms paper.”

  Harry rolls his eyes, “So you weren’t snogging with that Gryffindor, I assume?”

  Zayn’s cheeks go pink. “What makes you believe that? I— why would you— _no_.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks just about anywhere that’s not Harry’s eyes.

  Harry smirks and lets out a ‘hmph’. “Anyways,” he picks back up, finally shutting the textbook in his lap, “when I was late and running to class, I bumped into Horan on the way there. And...” he drawls. Zayn gives him a questioning look, eyebrow raised and a nod telling him to go on. “And, well, mistletoe sort of formed above the two of us,” he answers quietly.

  Zayn immediately begins to laugh at him, feet kicking up in the air in the most absurd way, only thus receiving another annoyed look from Harry. The fireplace light accentuates the creases on Zayn’s face while he laughs, his face legitimately lighting up in a way that makes him look eccentric. Harry decides he hates him.

  He spots the fourth year by the bookshelves glaring at Zayn, most likely because of the noise he’s creating. She hastily waves her wand as her textbooks stack themselves into a neat pile and float behind her as she walks up the steps to the girls dormitory, chin raised, footsteps loud, and her hair bobbing behind her.

  “Okay, okay. I’m done,” Zayn dies off, a smug look lingering on his face. He turns and sits the correct way on the couch, hands behind him as he leans on them back into the cushioned pillows. “You really haven’t heard, though?” he asks.

  “Heard what?” Harry questions while attempting to get his long legs into a ‘criss cross applesauce’, or what his mum would call it. He fails and sighs, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. He warms up at the thought of his mother. As much as he loves Hogwarts, he misses home.

  “You really don’t pay attention during dinner these days, do you?” Zayn states. Harry ponders over it. He really hasn’t been paying attention, keeping a book close by him during feasts while shoving yet another spoonful of Cornish pastry into his mouth. “The Headmaster’s attempting to play matchmaker. For the entire month leading up to Christmas, a charm has been indicted all over the castle. I’m not sure exactly how it’s supposed to work, but mistletoe has been appearing over hapless pupils’ heads, and now you seem to be one of them.”

  Harry’s eyes widen. He tilts his head back and groans, staring at the ceiling above. He’s rather sure it’s around 107 feet tall, he had read it in a book somewhere. “Do you really think it was like, I don’t know, like we were supposed to kiss? Perchance it’s completely at random, just, you know, a joke. It has to be that. Niall and I? We’re just good friends. We’ve known each other for almost seven years, Zayn. _Okay_ , fine, maybe I’ve touched his bum before, but why would some romance suddenly spark up during out last year at Hogwarts? That’s ridiculous.”

  He sweeps his hands in a frustrated gesture while stating the last part. Unfortunately, his mug of hot chocolate is in his arm's path, and it tips over. The warm liquid forms a puddle on the carpet. Zayn snickers and Harry mutters out a spell to clean it up, small brown droplets floating up from the carpet and back into the mug that Harry pushes away. He knows his argument sounds much weaker than he wants it to, the rhetorical questions not aiding his point, like he’s trying to convince himself rather than Zayn.

  “I’m not sure, Styles. You tell me,” Zayn looks more than amused at the whole ordeal.

  Harry is ready to hex, or even punch, the look right off his face.

  He whines, “You’re not much help.” Zayn shrugs in response, riffling a hand through his hair and slouching back against his couch. The two return to their prior form of studying. He opens up the book onto his lap again, but even as hard as he tries, every word he reads goes in one ear and out the other. His mind is all over the place. The only thought that he can really decipher is the fact that he remembers Niall’s cheeks to be the same shade of red adorning the mistletoe. He groans and turns the page.

*

  Harry decides to go to the library. It’s less than two weeks before they’re all leaving for winter break. For many, it’s a time of happiness and joy. The holiday feel is in the air as everyone has scarves wrapped around their necks as they wander around the grounds. It’s impromptu trips to Hogsmeade, and surprise gifts of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes that surround the castle. Harry would love to join in the fun, but he just can’t.

  The problem is that he’s a seventh year, his final year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, meaning N.E.W.T.S.: Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, an entirely accurate name, Harry believes. They’re the most important exams of his wizarding career. He cannot afford to explore shops, overflow with butterbeer, and get involved in snowball fights when it seems like everything he has been working toward is on the line.

  He’s walking through the castle when he spots a couple sitting on a bench, lips pressed against each other and hands grazing in spots Harry doesn’t even want to imagine. There’s a very obvious mistletoe plant sprouting above them and Harry’s cheeks light up and he walks even faster down the corridor.

  When he enters the library, it’s to no surprise to see over half the students inside adorning Ravenclaw house colors. He’s walking through, trying to find his self claimed desk, when another boy jogs up to him and brings an arm around Harry’s shoulder.

  “Hey, Harry,” Liam says, walking beside him. Harry flinches at the loudness of Liam’s words through the almost silent library. “Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to check if you’re still able to help me with Potions work this Wednesday.” His hand not around Harry is limp in his pocket and his footsteps are upbeat.

  He wears no robes but a navy cardigan brought over a white buttoned shirt, unmistakable crimson and gold Gryffindor tie splat in the middle. There’s small white glistening bits covering his hair and sweater and Harry assumes it’s snow by the small pang of cold wetness he feels through the fabric where Liam’s arm touches him.

  “I definitely understand if you have a lot of work and can’t do it,” Liam adds when Harry doesn’t answer after a few seconds.

  He stifles a sigh and nods, “Sure, yeah. I can. Just meet me in here anytime, really. I’ll most likely be stuck in this place whenever I’m not in class.” Liam is his friend and he wants to help him. Really, he does, but right now he has so much work to complete and studying to do, (Why in the hell did he decide it was a good idea to take an extra class, again?) anytime not spent doing just that feels wasted. But Harry is a good person and aims to be a good friend, so he ends up agreeing anyways.

  Liam gives him an empathetic look and squeezes his shoulder, “Thanks, Harry. I really appreciate it.”

  “There you are. This library is so fucking bloody _big_ , what’s the need for all these books, anyways?” Louis asks after walking out from behind another book case. “Sorry, Harry” he adds, seeing the Ravenclaw’s offended and annoyed expression. Harry seems to be doing that a lot lately; maybe his face is permanently frozen in an irked look.

  “Well, I’ve got to go,” Liam smiles and rolls his eyes toward Louis, “but thanks again. See you then.”

  Louis and him gallop—yes, god damn gallop off, Harry hearing a distant, “Now where the hell is the exit?’

  He chuckles to himself, always loving Liam and Louis. Liam being a Gryffindor and Louis a Slytherin, it always made out for interesting banter. The two’s friendship started off a bit rough and strange, where words spoken actually were intended to harm, but somewhere in second year they realized it only aided the friendship, and friendly squabble became a constant norm.

  Harry continues walking until he reaches the very back of the library, almost near the Restricted Section. It’s his favorite part of Hogwarts, where almost no one goes and he can’t be bothered. There’s a large mahogany desk that practically has Harry’s name written on it, and he sits down and places his supplies upon it.

  There’s a stack of at least five textbooks, all of various widths, resting at the edge of the desk. Another two are floating at eye level, turning the pages themselves whenever Harry flicks his wand. He has a seven foot roll of parchment in front of him, the parts that can’t fit onto the table pooling around his feet.

  He’s about thirty minutes into work and buried to the brim in notes when he hears someone clear their voice beside him, “Hi.”

  Harry jumps, surprised. The floating textbooks clash down onto the table, his bottle of ink jumping up at the force, and Harry waves his wand just in time before the black liquid can spill all over his paper. “ _Wh_ -,” he’s about to snap out, but he looks up to see an awkward Niall perched in front of the table, a faulty grimace on him. Niall closes his eyes and grinds his teeth together while the sound of the dropped books echoes through the library, a student poking their head out from a bookcase and glancing in their direction.

  Harry groans and lays his forehead onto the desk, curls flopping over his eyes and preventing his view of the Hufflepuff.

  “Oops,” Niall whispers, “sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Harry notices for the first time that his accent makes the words ‘to’ and ‘ya’ rhyme. He refuses to believe it’s because he’s paying more attention to Niall’s voice than usual or that he’s watching Niall’s lips through strands of hair.“I was going to ask what you’re up to, but it doesn’t look like a good time. I— I’ll just go,” he points a thumb backward, looking unbearably embarrassed.

  Harry doesn’t think, so he ends up sputtering, “ _N_ o, no. Come back. I have a lot to do right now, but it’s okay. I need a break anyways.” Harry sits back up and pulls out the chair next to him. Niall cautiously scans Harry’s face, probably looking for sincerity. Once he finds it, a small grin arises and he turns back around, plopping into the chair Harry’s offered. “I’m just taking notes and writing a Muggle Studies essay, as an answer to your question. Nothing too exciting.”

  “I see,” Niall says as he draws out the vowel. Harry only nods, swishing his wand in the air. One of the books’ pages turn, the two back in the air once again. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go out,” Harry’s eyes widen before Niall can even finish the sentence, “with the boys and I tonight.” Harry releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, scolding himself. “Lou’s already planned it, said he wanted to go up to the Astronomy tower or something.”

  “After curfew?” Harry more states than asks.

  “After curfew,” Niall confirms, leering.

  The thing is, they’ve done this before: Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn going off doing something they shouldn’t, Harry somehow being dragged along with it. Almost every single time it ends with them getting suspended from classes for a day or helping the gamekeeper for a weekend. (Which really isn’t that bad a punishment, the amount of times they’ve been there has grown a friendship with the half giant.) Harry’s also got a considerable amount on his plate, so when he agrees to Niall’s offer, they’re both taken aback.

  “Sounds good, then!” Niall says enthusiastically, his white face from humiliation turning back into its wonted pink.

  A smile spreads across Harry’s face and he cups his chin in his hands. Niall pushes the chair he sits in and scoots back, getting up. He offers a salute to Harry then walks off, this time looking back, no hesitance included.

*

  It’s ludicrous, all five of them huddled under Louis’ invisibility cloak in the dead of night. (“Don’t ask,” was all Louis responded when asked where he gotten hands on such a rare item.) Harry had sworn when Zayn literally knocked on his forehead to wake him up past midnight. Louis had whispered, “ _Lumos_ ,” to ignite a dull light at the tip of his wand. And now, he was sidling along the walls of corridors, feeling the slight cold of the cloak on the back of his neck. Louis, of course, was leading the way, then Liam behind, Zayn, Harry, and then Niall in the back who was looking left to right, the silently designated watch for the caretaker Filch or anyone else who could catch them.

  The castle is eerie at night, orange tinted shadows dancing across the tile from torches lit every few yards. It’s dead quiet, too, any noise that might have come from moving staircases gone. Their feet are the only sound, careful tiptoed steps being taken simultaneously as they move down another hallway. After what feels like an hour, they’re finally positioned in front of a large staircase. They know they’re too far away for anyone to hear them, so they walk up the stairs normally, not worrying too much about the potential sound.

  Once finally at the top, there’s a trapdoor that leads to the outside portion of the tower. Louis reaches out under the invisibility cloak, his arm seemingly floating in mid-air. He yanks on the handle, but it stays in placed, locked. “Fuck,” Louis whispers, “I forgot about that.”

   Liam places his head in his hands and Harry rolls his eyes.

   Zayn steps up, “Amateurs.” He takes his wand out of his pocket and points it at the lock, “ _Alohomora_ ,” he chants and there’s an almost inaudible clicking sound.

  “Where’d you learn that?” Niall asks from behind as Liam grabs the handle and pushes the wooden door up. Harry can feel Niall’s breath on the back of his neck and he holds a shudder.

  “Maybe if you blokes actually read your charms book, you’d be a lot better at causing trouble,” Zayn laughs, holding out his hand and ushering the rest of the boys up the ladder and onto the balcony.

  When up, the cold air immediately hits Harry. The main top of the Astronomy tour is outside, only a small railing to keep anyone from falling over. Harry tries to not think about it too much.

  “ _Christ_ ,” Harry chatters between shut teeth, “You could have told us to at least bring all our robes or even a jumper.”

  Liam pulls the cloak off all of them, and the cold seems to penetrate even deeper into their skin. It’s the middle of winter in Scotland, and the only clothing all of them are wearing is normal slacks, buttoned shirts, and thin sweaters.

  “No can do,” Louis starts, sauntering around the circumference of the tower. There’s a large globe in the center, and an even bigger telescope that pokes out over the balcony. Niall walks up to it and peers through, hands behind his back; it’s sort of cute. “We’ll have _this_ to keep us warm,” Louis waves two bottles, one in each hand, and Harry doesn’t remember seeing Louis carrying them. ‘ _Ogden’s Old Firewhisky_ ’ is printed on the labels, dark orange liquid sloshing in the full bottles. The stuff has a dim glow to it, apparent when the only light coming is from the arrangement of stars above and an almost full moon.

  The boys gather in a haphazard circle, Louis already beginning to pop the cork on a bottle. He takes the first sip and Harry swears he can see a faint orange glow follow the liquid as it slides down Louis’ throat. Liam’s rubbing his hands together and reaches out, taking the bottle from Louis’ grasp. He takes a sip and sighs, resting his head on one of the pieces of metal enveloping the globe. “Ahh,” he moans out, closing his eyes and laying a hand on his stomach while passing the bottle to Zayn.

  Harry’s the last one to take his first sip, Niall handing him the bottle. It’s warm in his hands, about three quarters still left. He doesn’t usually drink alcohol. It really wasn’t because he was so strict and prude-like against it, which was definitely not his case, but because he rarely had the time. And so, when the time did come, he savored it. He brings the bottle to his lips and tilts his head. He feels the hot liquid hit his mouth, a sharp contrast to the icy feeling surrounding him. It wasn’t just the temperature from the drink, but there was something more to it, the magic providing a heat that warmed you from the inside out in a way Harry can’t describe. He pulls the bottle from his lips, already feeling a bit warm and fuzzy from the power of the drink. He hears Liam crack open the other bottle and go for another sip.

  They continue like that, silently passing the two bottles around, no words being said. It was nice; they didn’t need words to fill each other’s presence. They were just _there_ and that was okay and all that was required. The feeling of knowing someone you love and care about being right next to you: that was all they could ask for.

  By the fourth sip, Harry doesn’t feel cold anymore. He rests his hand next to his thigh and Niall’s finds his place on top of it. Harry turns his eyes toward Niall and squints at him. He looks at Niall’s eyes, the moon reflecting in them and, _God_ , they were beautiful. Even in the dark he could see whispers of various blues and strings of silver. They glowed.

  “’S our last year,” Liam whispers and Harry can see Liam’s breath. They all think about it, because, yeah, there was their last year together and it was already about halfway done. Sure, they’ll most likely keep in touch after, but it was an end to an era, one that filled a large portion of their lives.

  “Yeah,” Zayn tugs the ends of his sweater over his hands, his legs are bent and his arms wrapped around them as he ever so slightly rocks back and forth. “But I’m not worried, ya’ know? I mean, this is what we were all working up to. Being able to graduate, that was the whole point, right?”

  They all nod, or at least attempt to, the alcohol coursing through their veins. They stay silent for a minute, one bottle empty and the other just about so. It’s passed to Harry and he takes the final gulp, relishing the bitter taste and closing his eyes. He lies down onto the cold floor, stretching his arms out and laying his head on his hands. He hears the other boys follow, and he absentmindedly reaches his hand out and grasps Niall’s hand. If the Hufflepuff falters, he doesn't notice.

  “I don’t know what I would do without you guys,” is all Harry contributes to the conversation and he thinks it’s enough. No one says anything back, and they don’t need to. It’s not the alcohol talking, it only supplies the moment for the right things to be said. Harry laughs to himself, admitting that he’s thinking nonsense.

  After a while, the wind picks up. He hears a small crinkling noise and the slightest sound of a bell. There’s another plant growing above the center of the circle, leaves moving with the wind. It’s dark, but he can distinguish it as mistletoe, much larger than the one he encountered earlier. “Huh,” he says, noting that it doesn’t grow over any two of them specifically, but over the five of them as a whole. He stares at it for a while until his eyes become unfocused, and he feels Liam from across the circle sit up. They catch each other’s eyes and the biggest grin grows on their faces. Yeah, that’s them, he thinks, they’re all sort of in love with each other as well.  

*

  Semester finals have completely swarmed Harry. It’s the Sunday before the week students were to leave for winter break, meaning the following five days would prove to be a hell. A string of exams were scheduled for each day, almost no time for a break.

  The only subject Harry wasn’t worried for was Potions, since it was his best subject that had always came naturally to him. His Potions professor, Slughorn, had seemed to take a great liking to him, always ecstatic once Styles entered the classroom.

  On the other end of the spectrum was Muggle Studies. History had never quite been his forte, and everything said in that class felt foreign. (He _was_ a pureblood, so in a way it actually sort of was.) It didn’t help that the professor was one of the grounds’ ghosts, a monotone voice welcoming them to class as a silky blue figure appeared through the wall.

  So, Harry found himself once again with his nose buried into the subject’s textbook in the dining hall. All five of them sat at the Hufflepuff table. Normally, a student would receive strange looks for sitting at a table that wasn’t embellished with their own house colors, but after almost six years of them doing so, no one even bothered to glance in their direction.  

  Harry blindly reached for another pastry, grateful for the magically refilling dishes. He could hear Louis across the table say something along the lines of ' _Jesus, that's his ninth one and counting_ ' and Liam reply with what sounded like ' _I'm pretty sure it's his eighth_ '. Harry was too engulfed into the book to care, but as soon as the Horan sitting next to him taps his shoulder, he automatically looks up.

  "You know 'm a muggle born," Niall says, mouth struggling to form words with a large bite of pumpkin pie in his mouth. Harry only gives him a questioning look. He already knew that, and had already established he didn't care where someone came from and that any arguments regarding it were trivial. Niall shakes his head as if he knows what Harry's thinking, and Harry wouldn't be surprised if he did. Niall swallows down his food, "No, but I see your Muggle Studies textbook. I probably already know th' lot of it, so if you needed any help, could offer it."

  Harry opens his mouth and forms an 'o'. People had always gone to Harry whenever they needed help in any particular subject, but he can't remember the last time anyone had actually offered it to him.

  "Uh, yeah. Sure. Why not?"

  Niall beams at him, "Alright then, come to my common room after this, then."

  Harry hums in agreement, returning back to his book. He pretends that he doesn't continue to steal glances toward the boy beside him.

  Once everyone finishes dinner, Harry follows Niall out of the hall and through the double doors. They shuffle to the side as a swarm of students exit and make their ways to separate sides of the castle to their houses.

  "Niall, where exactly _is_ the Hufflepuff common room?" Harry asks, suddenly realizing he doesn't know where it is, much less ever been there.

  “ _Ahh_ ,” Niall breathes, “been waiting for you to ask. You see, everyone’s got their own little way to enter their common room, right? Gryffindors have to answer to that Fat Lady, the painting. You Ravenclaws need to answer some riddle on the spot, one that most of us could never even guess, and so on. Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, have the advantage of being hidden. We’re sworn to ne’er reveal the path. It changes every now and then, too. ‘Course someone forgets that it has and’ll end up having to beg someone to lead them there. ‘S happened to me more than a few times.”

  Harry laughs and Niall looks up at him. The crowd of students has mostly dispersed by now, and it’s just the two of them standing there.

  Zayn, Liam and Louis are the last ones to walk out the dining hall. They all look at the two of them, smug looks on all their faces. They say nothing, walking off in the opposite direction. Zayn looks back once, looking at Harry, and laughs. Harry hears one of them say, “ _Finally_.”

  Niall chuckles and looks at the ground, one hand going back and scratching his neck. “Anyways, that’s why you’ll be needing this,” Niall’s spare hand reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a Hufflepuff colored tie.

  “You’re kidding,” Harry deadpans, staring at the piece of fabric in Niall’s hands, already knowing its use.

  The blond boy shakes his head, laughing, “Nope, not at all.”

  Harry groans, "Fine." He turns around so Niall can fasten the cloth around his eyes. Soon enough, he can't see, Niall tugging the tie's knot at the back of his head. Harry feels the way Niall's fingers softly touch his hair, a pleasant tickle making him shiver.

  "There," Niall says and gives Harry's head the slightest pat and Harry returns it with a toothy grin.

  Harry tries not to pout when he suddenly doesn't feel Niall's touch on him anymore. It's a few seconds of silence before he says, "Where did you go?"

  He feels a breath on his face, one tinged with the scent of various spices and pumpkin, " _You look good in those colors_ ," is all Harry can hear. The soft words come from right in front of him and he realizes Niall can't be more than four inches away from him. There's an edge to it all and before Harry can think more into it, there's a soft warm hand grasping his own, tugging him somewhere he can't tell.

  Harry does nothing. He lets Niall be the dominant, being pulled by him around the castle. "Stairs," Niall mutters once they reach a set. His other hand grabs Harry's empty one as he leads the Ravenclaw on and upward.

  Harry relaxes into Niall's touch, following wherever Niall leads them. He starts to focus on just that, the touch. Niall's hand is warmer than his, soft yet calloused all at once. They're back on flat ground now and one of Niall's hands lets go of Harry's and makes it's way to his side to stabilize him before moving once again.

  Wherever Niall seems to touch him, it starts to feel like fire, but a good kind, like Firewhisky flowing underneath his skin. Harry decides that Niall has started to have that same effect on him, warming him up and intoxicating him.

  "And _here!_ " Niall says as Harry guesses they've reached the common room. He hears Niall open a door and suddenly he's behind Harry, pushing him into the room, hands pressed into the small of his back.

  Harry really needs to learn to control himself, because the touch there seems to spark through him. It feels too overwhelming, Niall having the figurative dominant hand over him, his literal hands pressed onto his body, and for fucks sake, he blindfolded him. And if all this isn't some sort of déjà vu from a dream Harry's had, he's not entirely sure what is.

  Niall's hands are back on Harry's head, fingers lacing through the cloth to undo the knot, "Let me get this off." Niall must grab the wrong strand when trying to loosen the fabric, because he ends up pulling on a small chunk of Harry's hair, and the Ravenclaw actually lets out a bloody moan. His voice comes out raspy and deep, a shudder going through him. Niall's fingers pause and Harry doesn't think he's ever been more embarrassed in his entire life. After a couple of seconds, Niall's hands move again, more quickly and they manage to pull the tie off Harry.

  The curly one blinks his eyes open, adjusting to light again with the Hufflepuff common room in his sight. There, standardly, is a bright fireplace lighting up and being the focal point of the room. A few students are going up stairs and into dorms. There's a mingling trio sitting on a couch in the corner and a couple younger kids sitting beside the fire, one aiming a wand at a paper airplane that soars around the room. Harry has to quickly duck to avoid it and the kids laugh. He guesses they're second years.

  One of the guys sitting on the corner couch is looking at him strangely and Harry hopes his sudden outburst wasn't that loud. He's quickly thankful to have decided to wear his robes, the draped clothing hiding anything that might be going on below.

  " _Sooo_ ," Niall begins, showing Harry to a grouping of cushioned chairs, "whenever you wanna start."

  "Uh, yeah," Harry remembers the book he slid into his robes. (Their robes are huge, but in cases, it proves useful, an arrangement of oversized pockets being hidden from view.) He pulls it out and removes the silver ribbon holding his place.

  They remain that way for another twenty minutes, Niall actually being an excellent tutor. He manages to explain every strange muggle phenomenon there is. ("Wait, their mail _isn't_ delivered by owls, then? How the hell does that even work?")  Harry's hooked onto his words, memorizing each, making sure not to forget. It's when the first second year begins to attempt to create mini fireworks that Niall suggests they move up to his dorm. Harry complies and the two get off the seats, trudging as far away as they can from the student's wand spurting small blasts of colorful sparks.

  Harry follows Niall the short way up the concrete spiral staircase. Once Niall opens the door to his dorm, Harry realizes it isn't unlike his own. There's four beds arranged around the room, a large window interrupting one of the walls, the light of a full moon shining through the pale yellow curtains.

  "Where's the rest?" Harry questions, noticing the room is completely absent of people.

  Niall walks across a large oval carpet— all house crests are woven into it, but a Hufflepuff color scheme adorns the rest of the cloth— and over to what Harry guesses is his bed. "One of the beds' empty, and the other two’s occupants are probably out on the Quidditch field getting drunk together."

  "Mhm," Harry sounds and sits on Niall's duvet. Niall climbs on the bed himself and crosses his legs, sitting across from Harry at the opposite end of the bed. Niall flicks on a small lamp while Harry opens up the textbook again and they resume the chapter they're on. He peers up from the book when Niall loosens the tie around his neck, but not yet taking it off.

  They're just beginning the final unit of information Harry needs to know when he starts to doze off. He's not exactly sleepy, but instead, Niall's words start to sound less like coherent sentences and more like a single strung key of an instrument.

  Niall's too busy explaining something called a 'cellphone' to notice as Harry starts to go over Niall's outline, beginning with his hair. He traces each strand with his eyes and following down to his jaw. He's taking in Niall's shoulders when he realizes the other boy has stopped talking. Harry freezes, thinking the Hufflepuff's caught him. He brings his eyes up to Niall's and follows their gaze to a spot above their heads.

  He hears the all too familiar soft chime of a bell and watches another plant sprout above their heads, this mistletoe feeling more delicate than the other two he's seen. Harry wants to groan and tell the weed to go away, but he isn't in the mood to act foolish. It stops growing just before it can obscure Harry's view of Niall.

  Like a parallel of the time before it was just the two of them, they both linger in silence. Harry hears Niall whisper something under his breath. He hums, a way of asking him to speak up.

  " _Your eyes are as green as the leaves_ ," Niall says again, eyes glazed over. Harry stares at him, his breath stuck in his chest, and his heartbeat takes over his body. He feels each pulse as it courses through him. Harry's stomach coils together, and he chews on his bottom lip. It feels like his limbs weigh a ton, and every movement is slow and dragged out, every little effort needed. He sucks in a breath and feels himself lean forward.

  Niall's face is only an inch away, their heads tilted at opposite angles. Their eyes are wide open, looking at each other's. Niall opens his mouth, lips ghosting over Harry's, " _And your lips as red as the seeds_."

  They kiss. Niall's lips are chapped against his own. Harry brings one into his mouth. He sucks on it, the sweet tint of pumpkin falling through. Niall pushes against Harry, and their tongues brush together. Niall's hands find their way to the small of Harry's back and the familiar feeling of fire returns.

  All Harry can think is that he can't believe he waited seven years to do this. It feels like their bodies were meant to piece together, every crevice a spot for the other to fit in.

  Almost as quickly as it started, their lips part and they sit back, once again staring at each other. Harry’s hands dig into the duvet, finger pulling at a loose string. Niall’s mouth is slightly open, along with Harry's, a dumbfounded expression adorning their faces. Sanity seems to drip back into him, and the rush of confusion that occupied his thoughts whilst talking to Zayn floods back.

  “I’ve got to go,” Harry blurts, already quickly grabbing and shutting the textbook in front of him. Niall looks like he’s about to say something, but the Ravenclaw’s too quick to leave. Harry almost trips when getting off the bed and makes way for the door. He doesn’t bother to look back and quickly storms out the common room, almost slamming the door behind him.

  He’s a coward. Harry’s too afraid the face his own thoughts. He runs away from them, and he hates himself for it. He realizes that, unlike Niall, Gryffindor is never a house that would take him, bravery not a trait inked into his system.

*

  The week, unsurprisingly, becomes awkward. Harry avoids Niall and any discussion of him. It’s rare for him not to tell every detail to Zayn, but he can’t even bring himself to say the Hufflepuff’s name.

  Whenever exiting a class, Harry can sometimes see Niall making his way towards him, and Harry makes sure to walk in the opposite direction, even if it means an inconvenient route to his next lecture.

  But when he finally gets out of his last final, it’s joyous, the most wonderful feeling he’s ever experienced. It’s Friday, and the halls are crowded with cloaked children celebrating, a few even throwing their pointed hats in the air when exiting their classroom. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh he’s been holding ever since first receiving the testing dates.

  He’s determined to head toward the dorms and get a head start on packing for break when Liam stops him. He pulls on his shoulder and removes him from the large crowd of students swarming the corridor.

  Liam grabs onto Harry’s collar, knuckles brushing over Harry's Adam's apple and it’s the most force he’s ever seen come from the boy. The other students are too busy yelling and greeting friends to even notice the two of them.

  Liam has a stern finger pointing directly in between his eyes, “You’re being ridiculous, you do realize? I’ve seen too much of Niall moping around the castle, and Louis’ made sure to tell me that _you_ are the cause. I’m not exactly sure what happened between the two of you, but I know there’s _something_ and it’s utter _bullshit_ , if you ask me. Whenever Niall tries to talk to you, you run away. I refuse to let you ruin him the week before Christmas, so get your head out of your _ass_ and talk to the poor lad! I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be all great and wise, but you’re being an absolute idiot.”

  Harry doesn’t reply with anything, the only thing coming to mind is the phrase ‘Yeah, you’re right’, and he doesn’t really feel like admitting that. So, instead, he unhinges Liam’s hand from his collar and nods, shoulders falling.

  Liam gestures his head in front of him to an area where Harry can’t see and shifts his eyes, “I see him right there, actually. I advise you to do whatever it takes to fix things, or you’ll regret it.”

  Whether it's a threat against Harry's physical health or a word of advice for his friendship with Niall, Harry can't tell, but he fixes his tie and looks off into the direction Liam indicated. Almost immediately, he spots the blond hair, small traces of brown at the roots. It's undoubtedly Niall all the way across the room and he pushes his way through the crowd to get to him.

  It feels impossible to move anywhere within the group, yet he continues on, not gaining much distance as Niall continues walking. He's determined, and when he follows Niall around a corner and into a less crowded hall, he exhales and practically runs to catch up to the other boy. His shoulder bumps into more than a few people, and he mutters a half sincere sorry to each as he passes by.

  When he finally catches up, his breathing is rough and forced. "Niall! Niall… hey, I've been trying to… catch up to you," he pants out in between breaths.

  Niall's face is unreadable, "Really? Because I remember ya ignoring all my attempts t' talk."

  He's mad, maybe even pissed. Harry's smile falls and he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Okay, you remember correctly, and I'm sorry. I— yeah, I've been a jerk."

  "Asshole, actually," Niall corrects, his hands shoved into deep pockets in his robes. He's still walking, staring straight ahead with shoulders tight and rigid. He makes sure not to look at Harry.

  Harry laughs, "Yeah, that too." There are no more kids where they're heading and it's quiet and empty and unnerving. Harry doesn't really recognize the part of the castle they've made their way to, them going up a small flight of stairs. "Where are you going, exactly?"

  "Away. Not sure," he says, walking a bit faster. The hallways are spacious, the walls blank.

  Harry's not exactly sure what he's doing, legs working a slow jog to keep up with Niall's pace. Their robes are flaring out behind them with the speed, the heels of their shoes making clicking noises against the floor.

  Now they're pacing back and forth, and Harry's beginning to worry that Niall's gone crazy. He just wishes they could go somewhere, sit down, and really talk. He wishes he could go back to before he messed up, before something happened between them.

  "Niall, can you just stop? Can we talk?" Harry finally pleads, hand going to Niall's shoulder, and inch away from his neck. The other boy finally ceases and looks at Harry. His eyes are glaring but his eyebrows are dropped, hurt.

  Niall looks like he's about to say something when there's a loud creaking sound a few feet behind them. They both turn around and stare at an area on the wall they've just passed. There's a dark brown pattern forming on the beige bricked wall. A zentangle branches out, its edges forming a large pointed arc that reaches down to the floor. Its height is grand and towering, almost touching the ceiling a hundred feet up. The formation indents into the wall, becoming a solid wooden structure.

  "A door?" Niall asks, confused.

  Harry walks over to it, hand brushing over the handle that's finished appearing. "I think I know what it is," he whispers. He itches at his temple. "Requirement something. I read it in a book, if I can just remember it's name."

  Niall narrows his eyes at him. Harry takes his wand from his back pocket and taps his head with it, closing his eyes. " _Aha,_ the Room of Requirement!" Niall only looks more befuddled. "It's a secret Hogwarts room, also known as the 'Come and Go Room'. It's told to appear when a wizard walks by while in great need of something, it can transform into virtually anything."

  "Really?" Niall inquires, walking over and grasping the handle with Harry, "Let's see what it transformed into then, huh?" Harry smiles with him, happy to see Niall slowly coming back to him and away from his previously stoic expression.

  They lurch the door open, a loud whine echoing through the halls as it glides open. Inside, there's a hallway that narrows into another door. It's glass with a brass handle, much smaller than the one they just opened and a few inches taller than Harry.

  The two exchange a look and walk forward. The hallway's dark, excluding the dull glow illuminating from the glass door at the end. After a few feet, they stand in front of it, shoulders hunched at the condensing space. Just as Niall reaches for the door, the one behind them clamps shut, and it's almost pitch black. Harry jumps, startled, and Niall obviously tries not to laugh, yet fails.

  Niall pulls open the door Harry's beginning to find familiar, and they find themselves in a train compartment that's small, cramped, and nowhere in proportion to the arched door that earlier revealed itself.

  It's a room from the Hogwarts Express. There are two cushions facing each other, only about a yard of space in between them. The two of them take their places adjacent each other. Harry can even feel the compartment moving, slight bumps jolting him in his seat. He’s able to see the landscape outside the window moving, a sunset over the horizon, and a loud roar of the wheels on the track.

  Magic will never cease to amaze him, Harry thinks, the compartment door shutting and he feels exactly like he's on his way to or from King's Cross Station.

  "So," Niall finally says, breaking the silence that's once again fallen. "We needed to talk."

  Harry feels nervous all of a sudden, but knows not to avoid to subject, especially with a bloody _magical room_ appearing, signaling that they needed this— needed to talk.

  "I sort of freaked out the other day," Harry starts and Niall nods in agreement, resting his head on the wall of the compartment. "I didn't even _mean_ to. It was all, I'm not sure, unexpected, I suppose?"

  "You know, it was you who initiated that kiss," Niall interrupts, looking up at Harry.

Harry's suddenly aware that the whole room includes sounds of students outside, he can hear chatter coming from all directions, and the clatter of plates.

  "Yeah, I did. Don't think I didn't like it, because…" he drones, not sure how or whether he should say it, "I did. I _liked_ it, kissing you, and that startled me. I can't explain why, but having feelings for you was new, strange, and, yeah, nice."

  Niall's mouth is a hard line, and Harry is waiting for answer, anything that isn't the silence he's receiving. Harry blinks, worry starting to form, but Niall moves from his place across Harry to beside him, and pulls Harry's face in his hands.

  He kisses him, except this time without hesitance, or any unsure movements. It's a soft pressure, his lips against Harry's, moving in a way that feels fluid. Harry kisses him back and craves more, like Niall's mouth and tongue are the answer to every problem. (He thinks they really could be, already thinking of several complications that could be solved by Niall's lips, tongue, and the sounds originating from his throat.)

  One of Niall's hands goes to the back of Harry's head, twirling a curl around his finger. The other goes to his chin to tilt his head ever so more to the side. Harry's not exactly certain of what to do, so he ends up placing his hands on Niall's hips, his index finger brushing under an untucked part of Niall's shirt, finger rubbing the skin of his side.

  He struggles to get a proper amount of air in, breathing against Niall's lips as they move into more of a horizontal position on the seat.

  Harry’s head hits the cushion of the seat as he lies down, and Niall pulls away, resting his weight on elbows on either side of Harry. They stay like that, sounds of the train and faint voices surrounding them. The faux landscape from the window shows a sun almost set, stars beginning to appear.

  "Hey," Harry whispers, face only an inch from Niall's.

  "Hey," Niall echoes, a grin that could only be described as goofy, forming.  "So, can we make this an occasional thing now?" he asks.

  "I think that's logical," Harry jokes, giving the Hufflepuff a kiss on the tip of his flushed nose. "Wait, I guess this means the old man's plan worked," Harry muses.

  "Hmm?" Niall hums, beginning to tug on Harry's tie.

  "The Headmaster's matchmaking worked, the entire mistletoe scheme led to this. So, I dare say, we can thank him for this," Harry concludes, shifting his weight and he half sits up.

  “Alrigh’, yeah. I’ll make sure to write a personal thank you letter before we go off to break,” Niall says sarcastically, eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “I’m also noticing there’s no mistletoe this time,” Harry ponders, one arm brushing through the empty air above them, and the other finding it’s place around Niall.

  The other one smiles and looks out the window, “None needed.” A warm feeling returns to Harry, a compilation of: exams being finished and the prospect of break ahead; the friendships he’s shared with loved ones at Hogwarts— a place he calls home— up until his final year; and simply the way Niall makes him feel.

  
  They kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> A thank you to zzouiam on tumblr for hosting this fic exchange! 
> 
> It was a lot of fun and I hope this fic sufficed. As always, thank you for reading! :)


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